Three Calls
by stolen94
Summary: She made three calls. Two to her best friend and one to him. Because she needed them. Not the best summary but promising two-shot. Macy/Stella friendship, Macy/?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything JONAS or the characters. The story is the only thing I own.

**This is my first fanfic. It was inspired by Let It Be Me by Ray Lamontagne. Awesome song. **

The first call is to her best friend, Stella Malone. She's drunk and can't seem to form a coherent sentence but Stella, thank her good hearing and understanding abilities, knows what she's trying to say and replies with, "I'll be right there."

When Stella picks her up, she has to enter the smoky atmosphere that is a high school party. She can't believe her tiny best friend would let herself be in this kind of thing, but she's coming to comprehend that there are a lot of things she doesn't know about her long-time friend.

She's located on a dingy couch. She can smell the funk from where she's standing and that is about ten feet from it. Her friend, she can see, is beyond fucked up. Her eyes are barely open and her clothes are mushed and dirty from all the things she's done that night. She won't think about that now. She'll have to wait 'till the morning, when she's hung-over and can respond with a grammatically correct sentence.

Two football buddies of hers are leering atop of her and Stella has to pinch herself to keep herself from doing something stupid. She just got a manicure that afternoon and doesn't want to ruin it. So she wears a stern expression instead and walks over to them, giving them the eye. "Excuse me boys, I've got to take Macy away from you. She has to go home." For anybody else saying that it would've sounded apologetic, but as she finishes saying it, she knows there's a tinge of bitchiness in her voice.

They stare at her with wide eyes and dumbfounded expressions as she carefully pulls Macy by the waist towards her. She's smaller than her but right now, she's dead weight and it's much more complicated than she thought it'd be.

She finally succeeds in pulling her up and she slings one of Macy's arms over her shoulders so that she can at least be sure that she won't slide to the other side and fall and in result make her fall, too.

She doesn't puke in her mom's car and for that she's immensely thankful for. She couldn't take explaining to her mother why she had to sneak out of the house at 3 in the morning to fetch her inebriated best friend from a party that was full of illegal substances and illegal underage drinking and no parental supervision.

When they reach her bedroom-she can't believe they've made it this far without identification from the 'rents-she slowly lays her down on the far side of the bed. The one that's facing her private bathroom in case of any emergencies while she's sleeping. She settles herself in one of her lounging chairs. The huge one that's creamy brown and is so fluffy it's like a miniature version of her own bed. She sits there and watches over her best friend sleep with no shoes on and no pants on. With her comforter pulled up to her chin.

The second call, Stella receives when she's fitting the boys for their upcoming tour during the summer. It's three months away from the tour but she figures there's no better time to be prepared. Especially for a tour.

She's frantic and can't say anything legible, so she settles with, "Where are you?" She's crying and she knows she's hiccupping already, making her sound more desperate than she wants to sound but is exactly feeling. When Stella replies her answer, she stresses more but makes up her mind. She needs her. Needs the support and comfort and understanding that is her best friend. And she hangs up and grabs her coat and rushes to her.

She arrives at the firehouse-turned-home and she wipes her face with the napkin she's been keeping stashed in her jacket's right pocket. She knows it won't make a difference. Her face is already splotchy and her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy. So she takes in deep breath and hopes it'll be Stella that answers the door.

She knocks and she knows she's trembling already. He answers and she's not ready for his questioning but concerned face. She's about to speak but once she sees Stella standing there in the living room holding up some piece of fabric, she rushes past him and straight into the arms of her best friend. She's making a scene but it's about time she did.

"I didn't mean to, Stella-I didn't even think about it-I found out last month and I couldn't think of what to do.." and now she's rambling, making no sense whatsoever. But then Stella starts soothing her, rubbing her back like her mom used to do when she got injured while playing a sport of some kind or when a mean boy said something hurtful to her.

"It's okay, Macy. It's okay. Just tell me what happened, okay? Come on. Let's go to the bathroom." Stella says. She starting to get scared. What exactly did Macy do that has her like this? She silently asks the boys if it's okay and they nod. They aren't close to Macy like Stella is, but they understand a disaster when they see one.

As they walk to the bathroom located near the kitchen, the Lucas' mom spots them and immediately asks what's wrong. Both can't respond and so Stella just shrugs and closes the door to the room.

Macy takes a seat on the ground, leaning against the bathtub, trying to hold in the sobs that are taking over and fails. She hangs her head and burries her face in her knees. "Macy, what's wrong? Tell me, please. You're scaring me." Stella pleads and she visibly sees Macy stiffen. "You're going to hate me. I know it. You're going to hate me and think I was stupid and selfish and and and..." Macy can't even finish the thought. She settles on crying her eyes out.

Stella lays a hand on Macy's shoulder and squeezes. She doesn't know what to say to make it all right. She hopes this note of affection will help. She's at a loss of what to do and it's terrifying and strange. Out of the two of them, it seemed like Stella was the more mature one. Sort of like the older sister. But right now, she feels every bit of 16 years old she is.

Macy breaths in shakily and readies herself as much as she can. It's tough but she can't go back. There's no changing her decision. If it even was a decision and not an impulse.

"Remember that party you picked me up from?" She starts and Stella nods, remembering fully well. "I did it with Harley Benson." She mumbles. She's ashamed. Really ashamed. Her best friend didn't even know that she wasn't a virgin anymore. How sad.

Stella gasps because she has an inkling about what her best friend is going to say. I mean, she just has to put all the puzzle pieces together. But she waits because it'd be wrong to jump to conclusions. Even if those conclusions are obvious.

"Last month...last month I found out that I was...pregnant." She admits and Macy burries her face further into her hands now. "It was right after I had that date with that dude. I was scared because I had missed my period, and although I'm irregular because of all the physical stuff I do, I usually know when it's going to come. But this time I felt like it wasn't, you know?" Macy sneaks a look at Stella. She's staring at her like she's seeing her for the first time.

"I had no idea of what to do. I couldn't tell my mom to take me to the doctor. I couldn't let her down. Not like that. Not when she keeps reminding me to go to college unlike her. And I couldn't do it by myself. I didn't know how to do that stuff. But then it started becoming more real, you know? I was sure I was pregnant. I didn't need a stupid test or a fucking doctor to tell me that.

I had a baby growing inside of me. A _baby_." And here she sniffles, tears streaming nonstop down her cheeks.  
"I'm sorry I never told you. I just couldn't disappoint you. It would've been such a blow to me for you to be ashamed of me. I couldn't have taken it."

Stella prepares herself for what's to come. She already knows. But she needs to hear it. Macy needs her to hear it.

"I was majorly stressed. I was alone and I didn't know anything." Macy hiccups a little, hating the next part. "I visited a doctor a few weeks ago. He just confirmed what I knew but then he brought up the topic of options. I had _options_, you know, and I didn't even remember that. And he's asking me all these questions like I'm on the same page with him. And he's _bombarding_ me with all these things. And, and he said the _A-word_. I couldn't endure any of that anymore, so I thanked him for his services and left. I got home and I just sat there in my bathroom staring at the ceiling asking myself, 'Was I _ready_ for this? Did I know what I _wanted_ to do?' And then my mom came in and asked me what I was doing and if anything was wrong with me. Stella, I couldn't do it. I couldn't let my mom down and tear her heart to pieces. Not after all that she's worked for. I just..." The tears come full force again and she's drowning in sobs now. Her head is now on Stella's shoulder. Stella is no longer waiting for the news, she's just comforting her best friend.

"The following week, I went to that doctor again. I told him what I wanted and he asked me if I was sure. And I told him I was. But I hadn't gotten a proper night's sleep since the day I found out. I was deranged and desperate and _young_. And so he just nodded. _He just took that as __**my**__**answer**_. And I went through with it. I didn't even know what was happening. And then it was done. No going back. No changing my answer. Nothing. Nothing, Stella." Macy whispers.

Stella is now crying with her. If only Macy had told her she would've been there for her. From the start and the end.

Macy is empty now. She knows now and that's all she needed. That closure. She just needed her best friend.

"I killed it, Stella. **My baby**." She mutters. Stella can't hold onto the little strength she has. It's heartbreaking. They both hug each other, crying for the lost life and the bareness that is Macy Misa.

When they leave the bathroom, it's been more than an hour that they've been in there. Both their faces are scrubbed clean. Eyes are still puffy but they're much better. The guys stare at them in concern, neither daring to ask the question that is burning on their lips. They avert their gaze from the little one, only seeing an vacant shell of their other best friend. It hurts them and they don't even know why.

Stella asks them if it's okay if Macy can stay there as long as she's there so she can give her a ride home and they nod. They don't know what transpired between the two girls and they won't know for a while.

They continue on with what they were doing, but it's not the same anymore. There's no more flirting between Stella and Joe and she's not as happy as she used to be. It's quiet.

Macy is laying down on the couch. Before all this, she would've screamed, fainted, and taken a billion pictures and remembered every little feeling but not after this. Not when she's feeling like there's nothing to live for.

The boys try to keep their stares to a minimum. But it's disturbing them that Macy isn't talking. Isn't even giggling or doing something equally fanatic.

The mood is somber and there's so much tension it's killing them all. But only succeeding with one particular in the room.

The third call is not to Stella Malone, her best friend. But to him. She's at a loss of what to do. She can't sleep. She can't eat. She can't anything. So she seeks the comfort of him. His silence and understanding and quiet strength.

He picks up on the third ring, sounding occupied but once he hears her voice, his attention is solely on her. It moves her.

She's tentatively asking if he could come over. If it wasn't such a hassle and if he wasn't doing anything. He's writing a song, but he doesn't let her know. She hasn't communicated to them at all these past few weeks and he's taking the opportunity that she has called him, and only him.

He rushes over there, throwing some vague excuse to his brothers and parents, pulling on a sweater over his tee and tying his cons as quickly as he can.

He arrives and he's so surprised by the way that she looks that she just stares at him and beckons him inside her house. She's wearing a school sweater but before when it looked snug, it just looks baggy now.

He's worried but he doesn't know what he should be worried about exactly.

They climb the stairs and walk the small hallway to her bedroom. It's super neat. Not a thing is out of place. Should he be worried about this? Or just freaked out?

She's mumbling something now. Something about being sorry that she had to bother him but she didn't know who else to call. Not at this time. All she thought about was him. And so now he's here.

He's standing there, feeling out of place. She knows this as she's setting up a playlist on her laptop. She knows this as she presses play and mellow music starts to fill the room. She knows this as she grabs his hand and leads him to her bed. They both sit down. She looks at her lap.

"Can you lay with me?" She asks quietly...shyly. He's surprised and his face is shocked. She looks at him through her lashes and says, "I just want someone to hold me. I want to stop feeling empty." She mutters. And it's the way that she says it. Likes she's at a loss of what to do and she called him to find the answer. It's so fucking touching that he almost cries. But he doesn't. He just nods and removes his shoes. She's also in socks, but she's just in shorts. He doesn't know why. It's cold outside and it's not exactly comfortable in her house either.

He's awkward at first. He's never done this before. Nobody ever requested this of him. His presence.

She shifts and lays her head on her pillow, waiting for him to follow. When he does, she backs up a little so that she's flush against his chest and can feel the texture of his jeans with her legs.

She hesitates but decides she wants to do it, so she tangles her legs with his and pulls his right hand over her body so that she's holding it by her stomach. She feels like something has come together inside of her. Like something has been repaired.

It wasn't her intention to tell him. She actually planned on not letting anybody know her terrible dirty not-so-little secret. But she's so relaxed and she feels right for the first time since that day.

She starts crying somewhere along as she's telling him. He remains quiet but she feels him pull her closer. Which makes her cry harder. She tries her hardest to be calm and she finally finishes.

He doesn't say anything but turns her so that she's staring into his deep dark eyes. He's telling her without words that he understands and doesn't blame her. Telling her all this without saying a single word.

She nods and her tears slow down and then stop. She buries her head into his chest and she loves the sound and feeling of his heartbeat right by her ear. And finally she feels like it's okay. Like what she did was ok. Maybe not forgivable by god. But ok.

It's silent afterwards, except for the music playing in the background. They're both about to fall asleep but she needs to say one thing. One last thing. And so she does.

"Thank you, Nick."


	2. Chapter 2

**An accompaniment to 'The Three Calls'. Hopefully, it's as good as that one. Enjoy. **

She wants to remember that night. The party that had caused all this mess. It was her fault, yes, but she wouldn't have done anything if it hadn't been for that party.

She closes her eyes and leans back into the comforting arms of Nick.

-She coughs. She's been to numerous parties before but this one seems crazier than the other ones for some reason. Five feet into the house and Mike, the quarterback, is already offering her a joint. She shakes her head, not really into that kind of scene. She prefers alcohol; not that that was any better.

She goes around the room, saying hello to the necessary people and nodding to the ones who she is only acquainted with. Mickee and her cronies are already there, throwing themselves all over the boys that they deem as their 'loved ones'. She snorts and listens to Bert, who's talking about the best game that they've played as of yet.

Before she knows it, she's in the kitchen, filling up her second cup with something that tastes like her dad's bottles that he keeps locked in his study. It is bitter and it burns her throat, but she feels high and numb. 'Dizzy', she also notes when she stumbles and nearly falls but is caught by strong familiar hands. Harley Benson stares at her and she feels herself heat up. She giggles her 'thanks' to him and smoothes her shirt, continuing her path towards the stairs.

She is glad she hadn't overdressed. Stella would've probably demanded her to make an appearance in an original custom-made by her, but that would've been too much for this low-key party. Not many people are there. Just the team and a couple of friends of each of the players which are basically the same people, when she thinks about it.

She glances upwards and groans, realizing that the couples lining the sides of the stairs aren't there by choice; they are waiting for the bathroom. She sighs and chews on her lip. She shrugs and climbs the stairs, following her original plan.

She reaches the top and smiles. She knows the layout of this house pretty well, having visited after some gruesome practices. The guys let her hang out whenever she wants and she is grateful for that.

She gazes around and quickly sneaks into a bedroom that has a private bathroom. She sets her cup onto a nearby desk. She hurries into the bathroom and relieves herself. After washing her hands, she fixes her hair a bit but her vision is too hazy to do anything more than smooth the fly-aways down. 'Maybe I don't have to smoke it to get high,' she ponders, finally recognizing that the fog that permeates most of the first floor is the smoke being produced by the guys with the bud.

She bursts out of the bathroom and is shocked to find someone in the room with her. The music pounds even louder than before and he doesn't hear the noise that she makes.

"I…uh…I, um-hi?" She stammers, blushing all of a sudden, as his piercing gaze settles on her. He smiles but doesn't reply. She shuffles towards him and, after a moment of hesitation, sits down next to him. Harley stays motionless besides her.

Whatever she has drunk is making her skin feel like it's on fire and breathe quickly and shallowly. She closes her mouth and wills herself to calm down.

Her hand, as if it had a mind of its own, moves onto his lap and stays there. "Are you okay?" She hears herself slur. He looks at her again, studying every inch of her. Any exposed skin she has he's eyeing it like he wants to kiss it and she shivers uncontrollably.

His breathing is deep, she notices, and he appears wild. "He's drunk, you idiot." Her mind tells her. She chances a discreet glance at his lips, but no such luck. He sees that and pounces on her, gently settling her down on the bed.

Macy doesn't know what is wrong with her. If she had been sober, she would've objected to this kind of behavior. But as it is, she is fucked. One cup and a half already has her mind spinning. Everybody always told her she was a light-weight.

The rest of that part is a little blurry and all she can remember is the lust building up beneath her skin, searching for a way to escape. Clothes are discarded and finally, there are no barriers between them.

He does something and then he's in there and she can't describe the pain. Her cries are muffled by his kisses and she grips onto him with all the strength she has left.

He finishes then, so abruptly, she almost doesn't realize what has just happened.

He pulls off of her and sits up, sliding his boxers to his hips and buckling his pants. He fixes his hair and leaves.

She lays there for a while, trying to figure out what she has done, but her thoughts are swimming around and she can't grasp onto any one in particular.

She stifles her shout as she makes a move for her clothes and carefully puts them on.

Next thing she knows, she's back downstairs, downing a fourth cup and laughing hysterically at something Albert Peminsky has said.

Another hour and she realizes she doesn't know how to get home.

She flips her phone open and thanks god that she has Stella on speed-dial.

She isn't completely sure if Stella understands her, but then she's there and she's really intimidating.

She carries Macy out of the room and into the car and then they arrive at her house.

The last thing she can remember with perfect clarity is seeing Stella perched on one of her squishy chairs and the light pink covers up to her chin.-

Macy squeezes her eyes tighter, the tears leaking onto the arm that is around her. She refuses to whimper, and instead buries her face into him. She can't believe her first time was so uneventful. She knew the act itself was fast but it hadn't even been with someone special. She curses herself mentally, something she's used to.

Opening her eyes, she settles her gaze on the wall opposite the bed and stays that way until she falls asleep again. This time Nick is awake and he studies her sweetly, wishing Macy's demons away and hoping that she'll get better as time goes by. He knows losing one's child is unlike anything he's experienced but he anticipates that Macy will share her burden and let someone help her with her misery. He shuts his eyes and inhales the innocent smell of strawberries coming off of Macy's hair and listens to the music quietly playing.

In that moment, he knows he's become something more than just a friend to Macy. With that thought, he tightens his hold on her and succumbs to sleep once more.

**I didn't like the way it ended. It feels like there's more to it. But I didn't really **_**know**_** any other way to end it, so I left it that way. **


End file.
